I was 4 years old on September 11, 2001. I was in kindergarten. I can honestly say that I do not remember exactly what I was doing when I was told what happened. But I do remember my dad coming to school to pick me up tears in his eyes, fear pumping through his veins, questions running through his brain.

You see, my dad was an aircraft mechanic for American Airlines in 2001, working in Bangor, Maine we were pretty far from the heart of destruction. But the same logo on his work uniform was on the tail of those planes.

I was incredibly confused when my dad come to school, arms open wide, while my mom stood with tears in her eyes. I was wondering why my dad was there, why I got to leave school early, but I was just excited to see my parents. My sister joined us and we went home. My parents never hid anything from us as children, they were as real and honest as possible, they never thought hiding the truth would help us. So they sat us down and explained it. For hours I saw these terrible pictures, I watched the fear in my father’s eyes grow. This was not a small thing, this was not a one day experience. I was watching the horror and sadness unfold in front of me, not being able to understand what was happening. All I knew was that this was hurting my best friend, that I was seeing so many people crying. For days following the air was different, the community was different, the talk was different, and people’s hugs were different. They were squeezing a little hard, they were smiling at strangers, there was a respectful silence wherever I went, there were American flags everywhere, and people seemed to be more loving.

I watched as the stories were updated, as more lives were saved or lost, as people tried to figure out what was happening. As people wondered if any of us were safe.

Growing up my dad has always said that every generation has had something that happened during their lifetime that changed everything. His generation had the challenger explosion, the generation before watched Pearl Harbor unfold. My generation has 9/11. Sadly, the next generation will have their own tragic event that they can never erase from their minds.

I was 4 years old when there was an air attack on the United States.

I am now an angry and proud, American.